


Kiss From a Rose

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cheek Kisses, Friendship, Gen, Knuckle kiss, Platonic Kissing, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Shiro deserves all the kisses, So he gets some, Team as Family, That's just a fact, in a platonic sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-12-31 01:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12121110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: 5 times Shiro got kisses from the team, and one time he returned them





	1. Ursa Major

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes your brain takes you by the face and says 'today we are going to write the cutest, twee-ish shit you can'
> 
> So have some platonic cuteness, you goddamn animals.
> 
> I cannot promise it will stay cute (c'mon you know me)

“Okay, ow.”  Pulling off his green splattered helmet, Hunk gave a huge sigh.  “I’m going to be covered in bruises tomorrow.”  He placed a hand on his shoulder and rolled it, smearing a line of purple paint along spaulder. 

Shiro paused and glanced over at Hunk, lips pulled down.  With his eyes closed and his head falling back, it was hard to tell how serious Hunk was being.  Then again, they’d just been walking back to the kitchen for ten minutes, and this was the first Hunk had complained about being in pain.

“The springs on the paintball guns might have been a little strong,” Shiro allowed cautiously.  “I wanted them to fly at a realistic speed for gun fire.  It’s not quite the same, but it got reasonably close.  If it hurt you, we can dial it back.”

Eyes snapping back open, Hunk frowned.  “What?  No, nothing like that.  I’m mostly fine.  Sorry, just whining.”

Shiro’s shoulders relaxed.  “You sure?  I don’t want to injure anybody.”  He’d gotten Coran to test the shots on him, and they’d already dialed it back some.  But it was possible Shiro didn’t have the best sense of what was a reasonable level of pain.  

“Honest.  I’ve never played regular paintball, but I know it can bruise, so that’s normal.  And I was wearing armor.  Nothing really got through, except,” he pointed to his jaw, where there was a splatter of red.

Reaching over, Shiro ran his thumb over the spot, wiping the paint away.  If Hunk was injured, Shiro wanted to check to make sure he was alright.

Hunk yelped and covered his face with his hand.  “Shiro!”

“Sorry,” Shiro replied, wincing as well.  “I was making sure it was just a bump.”

Slowly, Hunk relaxed and crept closer again.  He paused his walking so that Shiro could look more carefully.  Each swipe of Shiro’s thumb made him wince.  “So,” he said.  “Are you going to take a handkerchief and lick it next?”

For a moment, Shiro just stared.  “What?  Why... why would I lick a handkerchief?”

“You never saw that on TV?”  Hunk smiled and mimed licking something on his thumb, then made like he was going to wipe someone off Shiro’s face.  Automatically, Shiro jerked back out of the way, nose crinkled.  “Something moms do, apparently.  Neither of my  moms did, but it’s one of those things, you know?”

Shiro managed a smile.  “Guess I don’t.  Must have missed that one.  I promise I’ll never try to clean you with my spit.  Unless for some reason it’s absolutely necessary.”  He shook his head dryly.  “I wish I didn’t have to add that part, but I’m not tempting fate.  Space is weird.”

“Agreed.  Am I going to live, Doctor?”

“This time, I think you’ll pull through.”  Shiro patted him on the shoulder and resumed their walk.  Glancing around the hall, he sighed.  “This is going to take forever to clean up, even with the castle’s automated system.”

The walls were splattered with lines of paint, mostly green and red, with the occasional splotch of blue.  At one point, Keith and Pidge, both incensed by Lance’s pinpoint accurate shots and smug pleasure, had chased him down this way.  Keith, at least, seemed to have taken a ‘spray and pray’ approach to gun warfare, and Pidge wasn’t very far behind.

Paintball had sounded like such a good idea when Shiro thought of it.

“It won’t be so bad,” Hunk offered cautiously.  He paused outside of the curiously clean kitchen door, putting his hand on the sensor.  “Coran has this spray that’ll make just about anything goopy dissolve, and then you just wipe it up.  It’s pretty cool, actu-”  Hunk froze, eyes wide.

The kitchen was a disaster.

Red paint cut a furious, bloody-looking line the entire length of the counter, with stripes of green cutting over it.  Several of the hanging pots had been knocked off their rack, many with blue spots, the rest with green.  The floor was littered with multi-colored footprints, arranged in a spiral as they’d lapped the kitchen floor.  One chair was pulled back, and it had another footprint on the seat, followed by a trail of them over the tabletop and a splattering of red and green shots.  Then all three sets made their way out the door, and down the hall.

Oh, dear.

Slowly, Hunk’s hands came up to cover his mouth.

“For the record,” Shiro said, quietly and carefully, “all the paint is non-toxic.”

Hunk began to shake his head.  “No,” he moaned.  “No, no, no.”

Wincing, Shrio reached out, but his hand covered just above Hunk’s shoulder. “Hey, it’ll be alri-”

“My  _ kitchen!” _

The strength of the cry made Shiro flinch back.  Finally, he put his hand down, squeezing gently.  “Yeah, it’s pretty bad.  Here, I’ll call them, and they can help clean up the mess they made, so you don’t-”

Hunk whirled on him, face red and hands screwed up in fists at his chest.  “No!  I don’t want them here.  I don’t want  _ any _ of them near my kitchen ever again!”

“I mean-”  Shiro paused, then winced.  “Okay, but that means they can’t clean it up.”

Nodding, Hunk swallowed hard.  “I know.  I’ll just-”  He looked over the mess again, and his face screwed up.  He bit his bottom lip hard, but Shiro saw it threaten to shake.  “I’ll start...”  He trailed off, shoulders slumping.

Shit.

Paintball lessons really had been so much better on paper.  

“Well,” Shiro finally said, taking a deep breath.  “How about we start with the counters, so we’ll have places to put the rest when we clean them.”

Hunk gave a jerky nod.  “Yeah.  Yeah, that-  That makes sense.  Good place to start.”  Then he paused and looked over.  “We?”

“I’m certainly not going to leave you to do this alone,” Shiro pointed out, brows up.  “Besides, it was my idea, and I was the one to put it together.  Then I was the one that gave them free range of this area.”  Shiro had been smart enough to make the control and engine rooms off limits, but he hadn’t even thought about the kitchen.  That was on him.

“It’s not your fault,” Hunk returned, but his shoulders relaxed a touch more anyway.  “You don’t have to help.”

Shiro shook his head.  “Have to, nothing.  I’m going to.  And then the other three can be in charge of cleaning up the training room from top to bottom.”  

Nodding, Hunk managed a shadow of a smile.  “Good call.  And, uh, thanks.”  He stared out over the mess again, then sighed.  “Let’s get started.”

Shiro pulled out cleaning supplies from under the cabinets, including a variety of sprays and a handful of rags.  “Um.”  He tilted one of the bottles over, squinting at the label.  It was in Altean.  Of course it was.  Shiro was fairly used to the cleaning supplies in the castle, but it seemed the kitchen had a different set.  “You know what these do?”

“Vaguely?  Coran showed me, once.  Mostly I wipe off the counters and wash the pots, and the systems mop up and dust for me.”  Hunk shrugged, the corner of his eyes tight.  “But I have a basic idea.”

Shiro bit back a sigh and nodded.  “Well, we’ll start there.  Which one of these is for the counter?”

Hunk tapped on one filled with a blue liquid.  “That one.  Shake it first.”

“Okay.”  While Hunk started to fill the sink with soapy water, Shiro gave the bottle a good rattling, then sprayed it onto the counter.

He’d expected a spritzing effect, or maybe an aerosol spray.  What Shiro didn’t expect was for it to come out like foam and grow on the counter.

“Huh.”  Shiro poked it curiously, and jerked back when it wriggled.  But it turned out to be a bouncy substance, not actually alive.  “You just wipe it up?”

“Give it a few minutes,” Hunk replied.  He picked up one of the fallen pots off the ground and set it in the sink.  The water immediately went faintly green.  Making a face, Hunk pulled it back out.  “Then, yeah, you wipe it with a wet cloth.  By then it’ll be kind of shrivelled, and it’ll dissolve pretty easily.  But it takes all the gross stuff with it when it goes.”

Okay, sure. That sounded fine to Shiro.  He started to spray along the counter, then glanced over at Hunk.

He was bent over the sink, head low and shoulders held tense and high.  There was a tightness to his face, at the corner of his eyes and the edges of his mouth

Now, Hunk didn’t look like he was about to cry. But he was the picture of misery anyway.

Shit.  Next time Shiro would do better, that was for sure.  This kitchen was so important to Hunk, as a way of connecting to Earth and as an outlet and a passion.  He knew the other three had been harmless in the exercise - in the chaos of the fight, probably none of them had even thought about it.  

But it still sucked for Hunk.

Biting his lip, Shiro went back spraying, but this time with a different intent.  He made several shorter, interconnected strokes, then stepped back.  

Yeah, that’d do.

“Hey, Hunk, come here for a moment.”

Hunk looked up and winced.  “Is something broken?” He asked, voice very small.

“No, no!”  Shiro held up his hands.  “Nothing like that.  Just come see?”

Stepping over, Hunk took a deep breath and looked down at the counter.  Then he paused, brow furrowed.  “The weird shape?”

Shiro drew himself up dramatically.  “It’s not a weird shape.  It’s a lion.”

Mouth falling open, Hunk looked between Shiro and the mass of foam.  “Um.  Okay?”  Finally, he shook his head.  “I don’t see it.”

“Right here, see?  That’s the nose,” Shiro pointed it out.  “Those are the eyes, and that’s the mane.  A lion.”

Part of him cringed at the display.  Shiro wasn’t an artist by any stretch of the imagination, and he very rarely showed anyone his doodles, even in just.  Especially Keith, who had some actual talent in the area.  Shrio could joke around, but he’d never enjoyed showcasing what he wasn’t good at.

But this was for a good cause. 

Hunk’s brows furrowed as he looked between the ‘drawing’ and Shiro.  Then he reached out and yanked the spray out of Shiro’s hands.  “No way.  This looks like a lion.”  He made a circle, then added closed, happily curved eyes and a curly cat mouth.  Then he made a series of single lines, fanning out from the center, with two triangles at the top.

“That’s a lion?”  Shiro repeated back, one brow up challengingly.  “It looks like a kid’s drawing of the sun and the cat face emoji had a baby.”

“I-”  Hunk puffed up defensively, but then snorted, smiling instead.  “Yeah, okay, it really does.  But at least you can tell what mine is.”

Shiro tilted his head, then took the spray back.  “There’s only one way to settle this.”  Then he sprayed two lines vertically, and two more horizontally.  Meeting Hunk’s eyes, he sprayed an X in the top right corner.  “Winner is the best artist.”

Laughter burst from Hunk like it was punched out of his chest.  “I don’t think tic-tac-toe skills are an accurate measure of artistic ability.  Besides, you took X first, which is definitely cheating.”  Then he narrowed his eyes.  “But I’m going to take it, because I’m really good at this game.”

Grinning back with too many teeth, Shiro waggled his brows.  “Bring it.”

The game ended in a scratch.  As did the next one, drawn on the cabinets instead.  But then Hunk convinced Shiro to let him play X, and he soundly defeated him.

“Huh,” Shiro muttered, eyes narrowed.  “Do that again?”

The next two rounds also ended in a draw, and by that point they’d covered a good amount of the counters and the cabinets in foam.

“That didn’t take long,” Hunk grumbled.  “No fair.  It usually takes people a while because they realize the trick.”

Shiro snorted.  “Most people aren’t as competitive as I am,” he admitted.  “Again?”

Shaking his head, Hunk sighed.  “No.  If you’ve figured out the strategy, I think we’ll just get stuck in draws forever.  Besides, I won once, and that makes me the better artist.”

“I suppose so,” Shiro sighed, nodded.  “Here, prove it.  We’ll put a mural on that wall with the foam.”

Hunk snorted, but obligingly shook up the spray.  “Yeah, okay.  Mountains, you think?”

“Landscape?  I like it.”

Soon, the wall was covered in cartoon level drawings of pointy mountaintops and fluffy clouds, with w-shaped birds flying through.  After that, they got bored of their mutual artistry, and instead covered the footsteps on the table and chair with calculations for how fast the lions accelerated. 

“Does it ever bother you that the lions go faster than the speed of light?”  Hunk asked, slightly morose.  “I mean, I know there’s weirder stuff out there.  Obviously.  The whole thing is strange.  But it’s still- it spits in the face of what we know, right?”

Shiro snorted.  “I try not to think about it too much.  There’s so much about the lions that’s weird.  Mostly I chalk it up to the quintessence and leave it be.”

Groaning, Hunk shook his head.  “Don’t get me started on quintessence.  The lions essentially 3D print Voltron’s weapons into existence.  With light.  They convert light into a temporary form of matter.  And that seems  _ more _ sensible than just having parts of Voltron form into guns.  Since they already have lasers.  Just- ugh!”

“I know,” Shiro agreed, patting Hunk consolingly on the shoulder.  “You know what the worst part of this all is?”

“What?”

Shiro sighed.  “That it doesn’t seem to bother Pidge.  She just understands it.”

Mouth falling open, Hunk nodded.  “I  _ know! _  Are we sure Keith is the only alien?  Like, are we  _ sure? _  Because I can handle the alien designs.  I can wrap my mind around the functionality of the pieces.  But the sheer leap between what should be reasonable and what the Alteans do- Pidge just hops it like it’s nothing!”

Leaning back on his heels, Shiro considered.  “Huh.  I mean, if a couple of Alteans ended up on Earth as someone’s ancestor somehow, I think the Holts are a solid contender for the descendents.  I would buy that.”

“I’m good with that explanation,” Hunk said.  “In fact, blaming most of our problems on ‘aliens are weird, what can you do?’ sounds like a great solution to me.”  He stepped to the counters again, putting away the foam spray and pulling out rags instead.  Wetting one in the sink, he tossed it to Shiro, who caught it easily out of the air.  

He snorted.  “Agreed.”  He moved to their lion drawings and, with only a twinge of regret, wiped up the dried remains of the foam.  The area underneath, or even nearby, was totally clean.  “Huh.  That’s pretty effective.”

“It is.  But the paint better not leave an aftertaste.”  Hunk’s brows drew down, still grumpy but at least not devastated anymore.  “Or else those three are eating goo for a month.”  

Rather than join Shiro at the counter, Hunk pulled out something flat and round, about two feet across, and filled it with another liquid. Then he placed it gently on the ground and pressed a button.

The little device jolted forward, leaving a faint pink trail wherever it went.  It zipped to the other end of the room, then turned and left at a different angle, making another thick pink line.

“The castle has roombas?” Shiro asked, brows up.  “We have roombas and I didn’t know?”  He moved his foot out of the way for the little robot to keep on its way.

Hunk snickered.  “Well, these were supposed to just detect mess and clean up those exact spots.  Which, yeah, was fine, but sometimes you want the whole floor washed, not just specific areas.  So I adjusted the programming.”

The both of them watched the roombas progress, heads turning slowly as it bounced off of walls and slowly covered the entire floor in a layer of pink.

“Does it have a name?” Shiro finally asked.

Hunk paused.  “No, actually.  Naming stuff is usually Pidge’s area, and she wasn’t really a part of this one.  It took me twenty minutes, so there wasn’t really time to tell her.”  He looked over.  “You want to name it?”

Considering, Shiro hummed.  “Uh... well, if a member of the team, it should have a rank, right?”

“I guess,” Hunk replied, head tilted.  Then he shook his head.  “Wait, no.  Any rank you give the roomba means it outranks the rest of us cadets.  No thanks.”

Shiro crossed his arms in an exaggerated pout.  “Damn.  You foiled my plan.”

“I see through you,” Hunk agreed, pointing two fingers at his eyes, then jabbing them at Shiro.  “I also see you not wiping anymore.”

Holding up one of his hands in surrender, Shiro went back to work.  “Fine, fine.  Well, here.  Are there more of these things?”

Hunk nodded as he started to wipe down the cabinets.  “Yeah, a handful.  Nine, I think?”

“Did this one have a number before?”  Shiro glanced over his shoulder, eyes bright with mischief.

“Uh...”  Hunk shook his head.  “No.”  Then he paused.  “Do you want this one to be seventh of nine?”

A smile pulled Shiro’s face wide.  “Maybe.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Hunk told him, but he was grinning just as wide.  “Seven of Nine works for me.  I’ll try and get it to respond to the name, too.”

Shiro absolutely beamed.  “I’d like that.”  He braced his arms on the counter, lifting himself out of the way as Seven-of-Nine-the-Roomba zipped past him.   “So, what happens to the pink liquid?”

“Oh, when it’s done, the ro- Seven of Nine will go back around and wipe it back up.”  Hunk shrugged.  “Can you get the walls wiped while I wash the pots?  And whoever finishes first can get the table.”

Snapping off a sarcastic salute, Shiro obeyed.  He had to step carefully to avoid disturbing the pink fluid too much.  But it seemed to dry quickly, so he didn’t just smear it all over his boots.

Between the two (three) of them, the rest of the work went quickly.  Soon, the kitchen was back to its normal, pristine state, with no hint there had been a vicious paintball battle there earlier.

Shiro dug out two water packets - the original goal of coming here - and tossed one to Hunk.  “Okay.  Now, I think we’ve earned a nice, long shower.  The paint in my ear is starting to dry.”  He pressed a pinky into the shell of his ear, and made a face at the yellow flakes that stuck to the tip.

“Sorry about that,” Hunk replied, way too cheerfully to be sincere.  “But you were a big help.  Thank you.”

Shiro shrugged. “If anything, I slowed it all down.  You probably could have gotten it done in half the time if I wasn’t there.”

“Probably,” Hunk admitted.  “But I would have felt awful the whole time.  You made it kind of fun, despite what a complete wreck they made of my kitchen.”  

Stepping closer, and carefully avoiding Seven of Nine as it (she) began to scrape up the layer of pink, Hunk put his hands on Shiro’s shoulders.

Then he leaned forward and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

Shiro froze, eyes wide.  Slowly, he reached up, his hand touching over the spot.

“Was that okay?” Hunk asked, voice tightening.  “I’m sorry if it wasn’t, I just wanted to thank you, not make you uncomfortable.”

For a moment, Shiro only continued to blink.  “I’m not uncomfortable,” he finally replied.  “Just not very used to that.  It’s fine.”  He finally dropped his hand, and offered a smile.  “It’s nice, actually.”

Shiro had been fairly free with hugs for the team, even to the point of cuddling with them.  He was very used to accepting and giving affection.

But he was pretty sure that was the first time anyone had kissed him since before he left for Kerberos.

It was- it was nice, actually.  Shiro definitely didn’t mind.

Hunk still stared up at him, shifting nervously.  “It’s really okay?”

“It’s very okay.  I was just startled.  You’re welcome for the help.”  Shiro ruffled Hunk’s hair gently.  “But, seriously, let’s go clean up before we get your kitchen dirty all over again.”

With one last look over Shiro’s face, Hunk smiled.  “Alright, yeah.  Then, can I watch when you make Lance, Pidge, and Keith clean the training room?”

Shiro snorted.  “Oh, we’ll be watching from the observation deck, don’t you worry.”

“Good.”

With that, Hunk slipped out, heading down the hall toward the bathrooms.  Shiro watched him go with a smile, then gave Seven of Nine another, joking salute. 

As he left, Shiro’s hand found his cheek again.


	2. Aquarius

As Shiro gently landed the Black Lion into the hangar, he let out a long, deep sigh.

Home.  After two long quintents, Shiro was back on the castle.

It was the longest time Shiro had spent on his own for a mission.  A tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying finally unknotted from between his shoulders.  Immediately, his neck started to ache, and Shiro reached back to rub into the muscle.

Shiro hadn’t realized how much he’d miss the castle and his team in such a short amount of time.

It had been necessary.  The Wybrien were deeply serious about the need for the diplomats to spend time together in total isolation, and their healing technology and support were too valuable to let go.  

After hours of deliberation, they’d decided it was worth the risk, and that it was difficult to imagine the Wybrien were planning a trap.  Even so, Allura had been ruled out of the talks.  Just in case, she was one of two remaining Alteans, the only one who could create wormholes, and a Princess.

Shiro, on the other hand, was impossible to disarm (or, at least, exceedingly difficult), able to maintain a calm, diplomatic air for long periods of time, and bonded with a lion.  If he was ever in significant danger, Black would let the castle know.

So, there had been little choice, and Shiro had to admit it was worth it.  The upgrades they could get to the pods alone was worth a day of being stuck with Draema.  She was a shrewd negotiator and a sharp mind, but she was also a grandmother and very proud of it.  Shiro had sat through more stories then he could possibly remember.

In fact, those grandchildren were responsible for his current disheveled appearance.  

Speaking of, Shiro was seriously looking forward to a shower.

The comms clicked.  “Everything alright up there?”  Keith asked.  He sounded mostly calm, but there was a hint of tension, nearly a threat to his tone.  If Shiro  _ wasn’t _ okay, someone would be paying for it.

“Oh, I’m fine.  Sorry, I was taking a moment to stretch.  I’ll be out in a moment.”  Pulling off his helmet, Shiro made his way down the ramp.

As soon as he stepped out, the door opened, and there was a rush of brightly colored paladins moving to great him.

Except they all paused when they finally saw Shiro’s face.

“Uh,” Pidge said, her brows up.  “You’ve uh- you know you’ve got something on your face.”

Shiro kept his expression completely neutral, nodding to Allura and Coran as they stepped into the hangar as well.  “I’m aware.”

Grinning widely Lance crossed his arms.  “It’s certainly a look.  You thinking you’ll keep it up?”

“Considering I don’t have twin toddlers to reapply it anymore?  Probably not.”  Shiro scratched over his nose, which was currently painted deep black.  There were also splotches of brown and blue all over his face.  It was Draema’s grandchildren’s attempt to make him look like one a Wybra himself, applied with the finesse one could only achieve using a marker held in a fist.

Keith frowned at him and stepped closer, peering up at Shiro’s face.  “I thought you were supposed to be isolated the whole time.  The diplomat did that?”

“No, there was about an hour before talks ended and I could leave,” Shiro replied.  “Something came up that required Draema, and I offered to watch her grandchildren for a few minutes while she was caught up and made a decision.”

That made Hunk outright laugh.  He stepped forward too, patting Shiro consolingly on the arm.  “You know, babysitting usually doesn’t involve being attacked by fingerpaints.”

Shiro managed a thin smile.  “I didn’t want to say no and upset them,” he admitted.  “I figured if I made the diplomat’s adorable grandchildren cry in less than twenty minutes, they might second guess the alliance.”  He nodded to Allura and Coran, expression sobering.  “We got just about everything we asked for, though they still wouldn’t budge on providing any kind of combat support.”

Sighing, Allura nodded.  “About what we expected, then.  Thank you, Shiro, you did well.”  She paused, then pressed her lips very tightly.  “It’s very hard to take you seriously right now.”

“I imagine.”  Shiro shook his head.  “I’m glad I could be amusing for you all.  It’s very nice to see you too after two days. I can see I was missed.”

Keith outright smiled at that.  “Drama queen.  You know we missed you.”  He pulled Shiro into a hug.  It lasted just a moment longer than normal, as Keith ran his hands up and down Shiro’s armor, like he was looking for damage.  Satisfied, he stepped back, and Hunk pulled Shiro into a welcoming hug next.

As soon as Hunk was out of the way, Lance stepped forward, arms splayed wide.  “You want a big greeting?  You got it, boss.”  He latched onto Shiro’s shoulders and outright dragged him down.  Then he pressed a smacking, dramatic kiss onto one cheek, then the other, each with their own loud ‘mwah!’ sound.  Finally, Lance latched onto Shiro’s neck and draped over him like a shawl, letting out a dramatic wail.  “We missed you so!  Never leave us again!  We barely survived!”

To his horror, Shiro’s cheeks immediately reddened, just as they had for Hunk.  Judging by Lance’s devilish grin, he’d known about that incident.  Or, maybe he’d just figured out that cheek kisses were far more normal for Lance than Shiro.

Regardless.

Shiro took a deep breath and gripped under Lance’s armpits and lifting him into the air.  He tugged, but Lance refused to let go.  “You made your point.”  

“Shiroooo, we missed you!” Lance continued, undeterred.  He paused, then smirked.  “Do you need more kisses?  Mwah.”

“You know, I was just hoping for a ‘how are you?  Did you have a nice time?’” Shiro commented, still holding Lance a comfortable foot off the ground.

Lance waggled his brows.  “Go big or go home.”

Snorting, Pidge finally stepped forward.  “This is ridiculous.  Clearly, Shiro needs a lesson in how to handle this.”  Her fingers found Lance’s sides and began to dig in, fast and merciless.

“Gaah!”  Lance kicked frantically, trying to squirm away from Pidge’s tickling.  Finally, he let go of his iron grip on Shiro so he could grab her hands tightly.

Now that he was free, Shiro dropped Lance back down.  “Thank you for your enthusiasm,” he said, then bent down for a hug from Pidge, too.

Lance considered him, now safely out of Pidge’s reach.  “Mmm, no, I don’t think you’re satisfied, yet.  You were gone for two whole quintents.”

“I really regret starting this.”  When he let go of Pidge, Shiro hesitated slightly, then opened his arm slightly to Allura, not sure if that was appropriate.  After all, the reason he’d gone in the first place was her status as a Princess, and Shiro did his best to treat her respectfully.

Allura smiled and took the invitation for a quick squeeze.  “How about we catch you up on the last couple of days?”

Oh, an out.  He mouthed ‘thank you’ to Allura, who smiled back.  “I’d appreciate that.  And a chance to wash all this off.”

“It is good to have you back, Shiro,” Coran said.  He smacked him on the back (hard enough to make Shiro jolt), then pulled him into a one-armed hug, nearly yanking Shiro off his feet.  “We had an interesting transmission for the Olkari you should see.”

Shiro let himself be led off, glancing back over his shoulder for a last quick smile and wave.

Lance’s sharp, plotting gaze followed him out.

Ah, boy.

***

“Very funny.”

Lance waved from his spot at the couch.  His grin distended the ink on his face, reminding Shiro more of clown make-up then their newest allies.  Next to him, Hunk gave a little wave, equally covered in face paint.  Pidge was in the same boat, though it was hard to tell with her head buried in her tech pad.  Keith, on the other hand, hand a single marking down his nose, which ended abruptly, as if he’d managed to fend Lance off at the last minute.

“We figured you might be lonely,” Lance replied easily, kicking his feet onto the table.  

Gesturing to his own clean face, Shiro raised a brow.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Keith eyed Lance.  “Told you he would wash it off.”

“It’s there in spirit,” Lance replied.  He patted the empty space next to him.  “C’mon, we’re watching another Altean documentary.”

Hunk waggled his brows.  “This one is supposed to be historical.  Coran says it’s wildly inaccurate and sensationalized, so it should be a good watch.”

Settling down, Shiro settled in with a sigh.  “I could use something silly.  Sounds good.”

“Silly is a good word for this, if the costumes are anything to go by.”  Pidge tapped her pad, and the movie appeared on the screen, paused on the first moment.  The light dimmed low, and Shiro let out a low sigh.

Finally, relaxation.

It lasted all of ten minutes, before something brushed against his cheek.  “Mwah.”

Jumping, Shiro grabbed the pillow and jabbed it between himself and the personal-space invasion.  Lance grunted with the impact and shoved it back away.

“Lance!” Shiro hissed, narrowing his eyes.  “Enough.”

“I’m trying to make you feel welcome,” Lance shot back.  “That’s what you asked for, isn’t it?”

Shiro eyed him, but sighed and turned his head, trying to keep his blush at bay.  He failed.  “Happy now?”

“Are you?”

It was such a sincere question that Shiro paused.  He glanced at Lance and found his expression serious, despite the silly make-up.

Finally, Shiro smiled.  “Yeah.  I am.”

“Good.”  With that, Lance flopped back into place, eyes on the movie.

Shiro watched him for another moment, then let his attention wander back away.  

It was-

It was nice, even if it was meant teasingly.  But it wasn’t mocking, so Shiro thought there was no shame in just enjoying the affection.

“...You realize you have lip prints on your face now, right?” Keith asked, voice bone dry.

Lance burst into laughter.  “Spoilsport!”

Or not.


	3. Pavo

When Allura opened her door, it was not a surprise to see Shiro standing there.

It was, however, strange to see him looking distinctly pouty.

“Good morning,” Allura greeted carefully.  She made sure to keep her expression neutral.  After all, Shiro certainly had pride in how he presented himself, and to laugh over his stuck out lip would only annoy him.  “Is there something I can help you with?”

Shiro took a deep breath, then let it out as a sigh.  “Yes.  I’d like your opinion on something.  I was discussing our visit with the Telkemi with Coran.  I understand that the armor won’t be acceptable for them.”

Nodding, Allura eyed him. “It would be considered hostile intent, since they are so pacifistic.  Does that worry you?  Unless something very radical has changed, I don’t believe we have much to fear from them.”  Even if they did decide to be hostile, they were about four feet high and twiggy.  Allura was more worried about accidentally breaking one’s arm off in a greeting than being harmed by one.

“No,” Shiro replied.  “Well, yes, I can’t say I like that.  But I understand it, I don’t think it’ll be a problem.  But when I said we’d just wear our civilian clothes, he didn’t find that acceptable either.”  He smoothed a hand down his vest, brow furrowed.  “Do you think that’s the case?”

Oh.

“Well,” Allura replied, slow to give her time to pick her words.  “I think your clothing is perfectly acceptable for the day to day.  But is it something you would find acceptable for a formal event on your planet?”

The pout was back, and even deeper this time.  “No,” Shiro admitted.  “It isn’t.  But could we tell them it was?”

“Perhaps,” Allura replied.  “But...”  She paused again, looking him over as she tried to put this lightly.  “For the past several months, you have either worn these clothes or the armor.  While the armor is designed to be worn in constant, grating condition, I don’t know that your Earth clothes were made with that in mind.  Would that be correct?”

Shiro’s eyes darted up to her, and then back down.  His fingers ran down his sleeves now, stopping where it tucked against the edge of his prosthetic.  There was noticeable wear there, the metal had rubbed the cloth thin and made the thread start to come loose.  It wasn’t the only place.  The seam at the shoulders was looser than it had been, and the thread at the hem was visible, which it hadn’t been when Allura woke.

“I suppose not,” he admitted, voice very quiet.

“It is perfectly acceptable the rest of the time,” Allura replied.  “But I simply... I’m sorry, but I don’t think it looks like an outfit for a special occasion anymore.”

A small, sad smile passed over Shiro’s face.  “That’s true, I suppose. It was never meant for that anyway.  This was from a bag I gave to Keith for safe keeping, when we had to sneak out of the Garrison.  I wanted to make sure we had a change of clothes, so no one would notice our uniforms.” He sighed.  “You’re right.  You’re both right.  We should all have a pair of nicer clothes for when we can’t use our armor.”

“I’m sure getting outfits for everyone will go completely smoothly, and there will be no fighting and arguing.” Allura drawled.

The dry tone startled a laugh out of Shiro.  “Oh, of course. When does the team ever kick up a fuss for something silly?”  His metal fingers tugged at the bottom of his left seem.  “And this is a very silly one.”

Finally, Allura stepped back and gestured for Shiro to come into the room.  He looked at her, startled, but obeyed.  

“Is there a reason this is difficult for you?”  Allura asked, now in the privacy of her room.  It would make Shiro more likely to actually share what was going through his mind.  “You seem uncomfortable.”

Shiro opened his mouth, then paused.  He sighed and shook his head.  “Uncomfortable isn’t the word I would use, but it is disappointing.  This is mine.  It’s from home.  I know no one is taking it from me, but I suppose I’m a little sensitive to it being insulted.  You’re right that it shows some wear, and that it isn’t right for this function.  I just- hoped.”

Immediately, Allura’s chest tightened.  Earth may still exist, but for Shiro, he’d only gotten a quick glimpse of it before being pulled back into space.  One day he would get to go home properly - she swore that - but for now, it was inaccessible to him.

Allura had a lot of empathy for that.  She could never return, but she at least had the benefit of bringing part of her home with her.  The Castle of Lions was Altean designed and contained databases of their knowledge.  She had a closet full of clothing for different occasions.  Her people, her planet, her family- they were all gone.  But she had pieces of the culture, however small and threatened they were.

“If you’d like, we have ways of restoring fabric on the castle,” Allura said, voice matching Shiro’s soft tone.  “There is a limit to what it can do, especially with a material we have no experience making, but it could help.”  If nothing else, it could certainly replace the thread and keep the outfit together longer.

Shiro’s head popped up, and he offered a smile.  “Thank you.  I would appreciate that very much.  But in the meantime, another outfit would be appropriate.”  He considered, head tilted.  “Would it be too much to ask you for help?  All due respect for Coran, but I suspect his tastes might be... old fashioned?”

Smiling back, Allura gamely bit back a snort.  “You might not be completely inaccurate,” she replied.  “I’m sure Coran’s tastes were very appropriate in their time.”

Chuckling, Shiro nodded.  “I don’t doubt it.  But for now, I don’t want to just pick something out.  I’d rather understand the context of what I’m wearing, and understand Altea a little better.  I understand completely if you don’t find that comfortable to talk about.  If you would rather not, I can pull something together.  But I thought...”  He tilted his head, a hopeful curl to his lips.

It was true that it would be painful to talk about.

But to let Altean die in silence was so much worse.  This knowledge used to be widely available, and now only this castle and the two native inhabitants knew it.

Why not teach someone else?

“I’d like that,” Allura agreed.  “Is now an appropriate time?”

Starting slightly, like he’d never expected her to agree, Shiro bobbed his head.  “Oh.  Yes, now is fine.”

Allura squared her shoulders and nodded.  “Then let’s go.”

***

“No, no, definitely nothing without a cuff,” Allura murmured.  She shook her head at the shirt in Shiro’s hands, nose crinkled.  “You don’t want old-fashioned, true, but you don’t want to look like a child.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed as he flipped the sleeve in his fingers.  “Alright.  Why are cuffs for adults and not for children?”

That made Allura actually pause as she dug through the box.  Already, they were surrounded by several piles of shirts in various styles.  Between them, they’d mutually agreed on something that matched Shiro’s position on the team and covered as much skin as possible (as if Allura would send someone into a formal talk with their  _ forearms _ showing).

“Well,” she said. “I’m not sure, actually.”  It wasn’t any kind of dexterity- the cuffs came lack that and didn’t require a button.  “It’s just how children’s clothing is made.”

Shiro considered that, then shrugged.  “Fair enough.  Like shorts, I suppose.”  At her curious look, he smiled.  “It’s more common to see children wearing them, somehow.  Adults can wear them, women more often, but it somehow looks childish to me.  I don’t think I could articulate why.”

Allura pressed her lips thin, fighting back a smile at imagining Shiro going to a formal occasion in shorts.  It was an absurd image.  “I suppose it’s similar.  Ah, here we go.”  She pulled out another shirt, in a dark grey with silver accents, and held it up.  “Will this fit you?”

Taking it gently, Shiro placed it over his chest, draping the sleeve over his arm.  “I think so,” he admitted.  “Want me to try it on?”

Tapping her bottom lip with a finger, Allura nodded decisively.  “Yes.”  It was an appropriate material, covered everything, and the accents on the shoulder and collar were both bold and well made.  It would do nicely.  

Shiro nodded back, then slipped out of the room.  While he left, Allura started to dump some of the pile back in their boxes, and pulled over another to look for a pair of matching pants.

The door opened again, and Shiro stepped through, rolling his shoulders.  “I’m not sure how I feel about the pads,” he admitted.  “I’m already pretty broad.”

Allura stared.

She hadn’t realized what a difference it would make, to see Shiro dressed up like this.  It wasn’t necessarily that he was attractive.  Objectively, Shiro was, but it was moot.

It was strange but nice, to see someone other than Coran wearing those clothes.  

Slowly, Allura stood up and stepped over.  Shiro stilled, brows up, and didn’t object when Allura ran her fingers along the edges of the cuffs, tugging them slightly and smoothing them out.  “The pads are to smooth the silhouette,” she told him.  “You’ll get used to them.  It would look strange without them.”

Shiro nodded and didn’t speak, catching her carefully.

Swallowing hard, Allura stepped back again, hands folded in front of her.  “You look striking.  With matching pants, this will be very appropriate.”

“If this is uncomfortable for you, I think we can work out a third option.”  Shiro continued to watch her, eyes flickering over her expression.

Allura suspected her eyes might be slightly red.

She shook her head.  “No.  This- this is good.  I apologize.”

“I understand,” Shiro replied.  “I might react similarly if I saw someone wearing something I would consider formal and traditional.  Do you need a minute?”

Taking a deep breath, Allura straightened.  “No.  I’m fine.”  When he started to speak again, she held up a hand.  “I’m honestly fine.   Seeing this is good, and I’m glad someone is getting use out of this extra clothing.”

Finally, Shiro relaxed slightly and nodded.  “Alright.  You said there were matching pants?”

“We need to find them, but there should be.”  Allura moved back to the box, then frowned.  “Hm.  Actually, maybe not.  The accent isn’t very stark on this. Something with more contrast would be bolder.  It blends slightly.”  There was no need for Shiro to wear something so plain.

But Shiro reached up and ran his finger along the the silver trim.  “Actually, I really like that color.  It’s appropriate.”

Allura paused.  “Because it matches the arm?”

That made Shiro smile.  “No.  Well, yes, it does match, but that’s not why.  My family name means silver.  It feels appropriate.”

“Family name?”

This time, it was Shiro’s turn to pause.  “On Earth, many cultures have a family name and a personal name.  Do you not have those?”

Allura’s brows rose.  “Have you not heard Coran use his full name?  Yes, we do.  I was asking what yours is.”

“Oh!”  Shiro colored and moved over, picking up a different box to busy himself and duck his head.  “Yes.  It’s Shirogane.”

“Your name is Shiro Shirogane?”

Shiro’s head snapped up.  “You- No.  Shiro isn’t my personal name.  It’s a nickname taken from my family name.  My full name is Takashi Shirogane.  Well, Shirogane Takashi, but it seems you order your names like westerners do.”

Sitting down hard, Allura continued to stare.  “Your name isn’t Shiro.”

“Part of it is.  Just not the part you thought.”  Slowly, Shiro’s lips curled up.  “You really didn’t know?”

“You- no!  I had no idea!  They always called you Shiro, and-”  Allura covered her face with both hands.  “No one introduced themselves properly.  Ever!  Who else is using nicknames?”

Shiro laughed and sat down as well.  “I think just me, but I’d be as clueless as you are.  Well, we both know Pidge isn’t her name-”

Making a choked noise, Allura slumped back in the chair.  “No, we don’t!”

“Oh.  I guess she didn’t say, did she?”  Shiro covered his mouth with his hand, muffling his chuckles.  “Well, sharing that is on her.  Feel free to ask around.”

“Months!”  Allura groaned.  “It has been months and I thought... I didn’t know your  _ names!” _

Shiro finally broke down, dropping his hand and laughing hard.  “I’m sorry!  I completely forgot.  It’s so normal for me to be called ‘Shiro’ that I didn’t even think about it.”  He slumped forward, burying his face in one of the pairs of pants.  “Of course you didn’t know.  Oh, man, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s no fault of yours,” Allura replied.  “I’m mostly embarrassed that we never stopped to give proper introductions.  Goodness, the things my tutors would say to me right now.”

Picking his head up, Shiro gave her a flustered, red-faced smile.  His bangs stuck up from where they’d pushed against the fabric.  “That you’ve been very busy saving the universe?”

“That doesn’t excuse being rude!”

That set Shiro off again, and he snickered hard.  “Okay. Okay.  Here.”  He stood, then offered Allura his right hand, shoulders set and expression remarkably composed, considering he’d just been giggling hysterically.  “Nice to meet you, Princess.  My name is Takashi Shirogane.”

Allura stood as well and took the hand.  And, because this was silly, and because it would fluster him, she brought the hand to her mouth and kissed the knuckles. “Pleased to meet you.  I am Allura, crown Princess of Altean.”

Mouth falling open, Shiro froze in place.  Then his face went bright pink.  “Princess!”

“It is a traditional greeting for someone dressed so formally,” Allura replied, flashing him a teasing smile.  “Well, half dressed formally.”

Shiro looked down at his mismatched pants and blushed deeper.  “But- you’re not supposed to do that!”

Brows up, Allura eyed him.  “Do what?”

“Kiss my knuckles,” Shiro replied, nearly back to pouting.  “I should do that to you.”

“Why?”

Shiro made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.  “Because you’re the princess?”

“So?”

“That’s how it’s done,” Shiro replied, apparently for lack of anything else to say.  “You’re higher ranked.”

Allura shrugged.  “That’s not how it’s done on Altea.  Now, do you want pants or not?”

“...Yes, please.”


	4. Sagitta

“And... there.  All done.”

Shiro waited patiently while Pidge unplugged his arm from her laptop.  Then he rolled his wrist, as if for looking for something physically different with it.  “That’s it?”

Curling the cords back up, Pidge stuck them in her desk drawer.  “Yup, easy as that.  Now you should be able to get into Galra computers without instantly setting off every alarm.”

“You continue to astonish me.”  Shiro flicked each finger one at a time, while Pidge puffed with totally earned pride.  “That didn’t take as long to patch as I thought.”

Pidge hummed her agreement.  “Yeah, it’s only-” she paused to look at the time on her laptop, then froze.  “23:00 castle time.”

Eyes wide, Shiro stared at her.  “Say again?”

“11 at night,” Pidge repeated.  “Well, then.  I guess it did take that long.  That took three hours?”

Shiro shook his head slowly.  “Wow.  Well, we were talking that whole time.  I guess time flies when you’re talking about lion modifications.”

“It is the purest distillation of fun in the galaxy,” Pidge agreed, only slightly exaggerating.  “Well, you can go ahead and head off.  Don’t fuss, but I’m going to stay up for a bit.”

Despite her words, Shiro eyed her, his natural fingers tapping on the table.  “You’re going to be exhausted tomorrow,” he pointed out mildly.

Pidge rolled her eyes.  “I’ve had worse than less than 8 hours of sleep, Shiro, thanks.  Besides, I’m still a little keyed from working on your arm.  I won’t sleep now anyway.”

That made Shiro pause.  “Were you stressed that whole time?”

“Well,” Pidge replied, tilting her head as she thought about it.  “I mean, not in a scared way.  But Hunk and I are always careful when we work on you.  It’s easy to do something wrong if you’re not paying close attention, and this isn’t something we can tinker around with willy-nilly.  It’s attached to you, and if we do something wrong, it could hurt you.  So there’s higher stakes.”

Rubbing his hand up and down the metal arm, Shiro considered that.  “Oh.  Well, thank you for being careful.  I appreciate how much you two do to make the experience easier.”

Pidge snorted and shrugged.  “It’s the least we can do.  Literally.  You’re already going through this to help us and the universe, so it’s literally basic human decency to make sure you’re comfortable and we don’t screw up your means of survival.  That’s all.  But, if you want to thank me?  Yeah, don’t fuss, like I said.”

This time, Shiro smiled and nodded.  “Alright, I won’t.”  He paused again, watching her continue to put away the tools.  “I’m a little keyed up myself, so I understand.”

That having his arm worked on stressed Shiro wasn’t a surprise, but hearing him admit it was.  Pidge carefully didn’t react, keeping her hands busy as she got her workplace settled.  Normally she wouldn’t bother, but she needed an excuse not to look over and spook Shiro.  “Fair enough.  If you want, you can stick with me, and we can be stressed out night owls together.”

When Pidge finally looked over, Shiro was smiling softly.  “That would be nice, actually. Did you have a plan in mind?”

Well, until just that moment, Pidge had been planning on doing patch work on her suits invisibility.  She was hoping to add sound dampening properties, and extending how long the effect could last.

But that wasn’t exactly a two person activity, was it?

“I was thinking video games,” Pidge replied.  “If you think you can match my skills.”

Snorting, Shiro shot her a grin.  “Oh, I think I can manage just fine.  What game?”

“Eye of the Storm.  Ever heard of it?”

Shiro nodded.  “I've played it once or twice.  Though, please tell me you have the regular controllers, and not just that awful glove.”

Gasping in mock outrage, Pidge put her hands on her chest.  “The glove came with inbuilt cheat codes!”

“Yeah, which totally ruins the fun,” Shiro pointed out.  “And the lag on those things was _terrible._  Even as a kid I got frustrated with it.”

Pidge pushed up off the table.  “Okay, Shirogane, you’re on.  We’ll do one round with the gloves, and one round without them, and then you’ll see.”

Standing as well, Shiro stuck out his hand - the metal one.  “You’re on.”

They shook on it, and if Pidge maybe tried to squeeze his hand too hard, Shiro didn’t seem to notice.  It was a tossup if it was because he couldn’t tell, or he just ignored it.

Well, he wouldn’t be able to ignore how Pidge crushed him in video games.

***

The first round, Pidge _destroyed_ Shiro.  Not that Eye of the Storm was a competitive game, but Pidge got all the kills and items, while Shiro struggled with basic platforming.

The second round, without the gloves, he was holding his own much better.

“Wait, one second,” Shiro said.  “Stay where you are.”

Pidge shot him a bland look, running her character in bored circles.  “Why should I do that?”

Without a word, Shiro’s character jumped up, bounced off the top of her character’s head, and then up off the top of the screen.  A second later, there was a cheerful chirp, and Shiro hopped down.  “Extra life.”

Mouth falling open, Pidge stared at him.  “How did you know about that?   _I_ didn’t know about that?”

“I just remembered it,” Shiro replied, shrugging.  “Last time I played two player, Matt didn’t even warn me.  Just popped off the top of my head.  I didn’t know what he was up to, so I kept going, and he got caught off screen and lost the life he just nabbed.”

Freezing utterly, Pidge looked over at him.  “Matt showed you?”

But Shiro’s gaze stayed steadily ahead, not quite meeting her eyes.  “He did,” he said, voice softening.

“Oh.”  Pidge leaned back against the couch cushions, legs curling up to her chest.  “He didn’t tell me.”

Shiro took a deep breath, then paused the game.  “Knowing Matt?  It was probably on purpose, so he could use it against you next time you played.”

Managing a thin, ragged smile, Pidge rested her chin on her knees.  “Probably.  Or he just didn’t think about it.  It doesn’t really matter.”

“It wouldn’t matter, except that he was taken from you.  And those questions don’t always get answers.  It’s painful to find out something about someone you miss, even when it’s a small thing.”  Shiro reached out, hand hovering over Pidge’s back for just a moment.  When she didn’t object, he rested it on the curve of her spine.  

Pidge wrapped her arms around her legs.  “By that’s stupid, right?  It’s not like he’s dead.”  Her gaze cut to Shiro, steady and bright, but her lips pressed thin.  “He’ll tell me later.  And we at least got to say goodbye.”

“You think Matt really thought he was going to die on the Kerberos mission?”  Shiro asked, brows up.  He scooted closer to Pidge, until they were flush.  “He was invincible, to his own estimations.”

Then Shiro’s expression fell, and he looked down at his feet.

Neither of them needed to mention the story the prisoners had told them.  That Matt had been scared at the end, had thought he was going to die- and then Shiro had attacked him to save him.

Closing her eyes, Pidge leaned sideways, until they were pressed tightly together.  “Well, he was right.  Matt was always really good at getting out of stupid situations.  He talked Mom and Dad out of punishments all the time.”

“Explains a lot,” Shiro replied, soft and fond.  He rested his arm over her shoulders and let out a long sigh.  “It’s still okay to be upset.  It’s okay to grieve.  It doesn’t mean you think he’s gone forever.  It means you miss him.”

Pidge bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, even as heat started to build behind her closed eyes.  “I do miss him.  I miss Dad too.  And I miss Mom.”

Slowly, Shiro started to rub his hand up and down her arm.  “You’re allowed to,” he replied.  “There’s no shame in it, I promise.  Even when we find them, even when we get all of you home, you’re allowed to be sad for now.”

“Okay,” Pidge replied, pressing her face into his side.  “But I won’t cry.  It sucks.”

“You don’t have to cry,” Shiro replied.  “But it’d be okay if you did.”

“Still won’t.”

There was no reply, but the hand on her shoulder didn’t stop.

For a few minutes, Pidge focused completely on her breathing, keeping the tears at bay where they belonged.  She really didn’t want to cry.  It was late, and they were goofing off, and now suddenly it was turning into a therapy session, and there was no reason for it.

It had just hit her.  Most of the time, Pidge was busy and focused and seeing the universe.  She was with her team, and they made it so hard to feel alone, because there was always something to do or someone to talk to.  She barely got a moment to herself.

Right at this moment, Pidge felt how far she was from her home.  Pidge felt alone.

But Shiro was alone with her.  It didn’t make up for what she lost, but someone understood.  Someone else felt the huge gaping hole in the universe that Matt and her father had left.  Someone else knew the enormity of that burden, and wanted to fix it.

“Can you keep playing?”  Pidge finally asked.  “Just so I can listen to something?”

The hand on her shoulder paused.  “Yeah,” Shiro replied.  “I can do that.  Can you shift a bit?”

With a bit of maneuvering, Pidge was propped up against Shiro’s right arm and shoulder instead of his side.  That was less comfortable.  Her head was on flesh instead of metal, but he had to use the arm at least a little to play, and he kept turning to look and check in on her.

But there was noise, and something to look at.  Pidge could just sit here and feel the weight of her emotions, without needing to hide or do something.  With her eyes and ears busy, the rest of her could just... process.

Pidge didn’t think she’d given herself a minute for that since hearing the words ‘pilot error’.

With only one player, Shiro was back to struggling.  The upcoming boss needed to be hit in two difference places, one after the other, and getting both was difficult alone.

But Shiro never asked her to pick up the other controller, or even went back to the main menu to select one player mode.  Instead he continued pressing stubbornly on, no matter how many lives he lost.

There was a metaphor to that, maybe, but Pidge could finally feel the late hour pressing down on her.  Her eyes fell closed, and she slowly drifted off to the sound of Shiro’s low mutters and the rapid, 16-bit music.

***

Okay, Pidge’s stomach hurt.

She shifted and grumbled, but it didn’t alleviate the discomfort.  Something big and unforgiving was jammed in, a pointy bit right over her diaphragm.

Finally, Pidge groaned and pushed herself up.  She reached up and rubbed at her gummy eyes, then looked around.

This was neither her bed or her lab.  Instead, it was the rec room, with the screen still showing a game over screen.

One controller was resting neatly on the table where she’d left it.  The other was still clutched in Shiro’s hands.  

He was slumped over, head just shy of a pillow, and snoring softly against the cushions.  When he’d falling over into sleep, Pidge must have fallen with him, and his metal elbow had ended up in her stomach.

So he’d kept trying until he literally passed out.

The stubborn, sweet jackass.

Pidge scooted forward, getting a better look at Shiro.  His eyes flickered under the lids, and there was a hint of a frown tugging down his lips.

Dreaming.  Probably of nothing fun.

Pidge yawned, then braced on his arm and leaned down.  Still in a sleepy haze, she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Immediately, Shiro twitched and jolted.  His eyes cracked open, and he stared at her in confusion.  “Mmph?”

Caught, Pidge felt her cheeks go pink, and hoped he didn’t notice.  “Everything’s okay.  You can go back to bed.”  Then, impulsivity took over, and she added, “you’re not alone.”

All at once, Shiro’s face relaxed.  “‘Kay.”  With that, his eyes fell shut again, and his breathing evened out.

Pidge stayed stock still for a minute, waiting for him to stir.  When he didn’t, she finally pulled back.

Maybe Pidge should have tried to get him to bed, but Shiro’s terrible sleep schedule was an open secret.  She was loathe to interrupt any rest he actually got.  And besides, this was a fine place to sleep.

It helped that Pidge really didn’t want to leave either.

So she flopped down, this time draped over his back instead of his arm.  Shiro shuffled under her, but settled again.

Wrapping an arm around Shiro and nuzzling into his shoulder, Pidge took a deep breath.

Maybe there were far from home.  Maybe there were people who had been taken from them.

But they were alone together, and that meant they could help each other.

It wasn’t the same, but it was good anyway.


	5. Phoenix

Shiro’s world was heat and noise.

A ringing noise dominated his senses, drowning everything else into a dull, distant roar.  He groaned, even that sounding far away, and tried to move.

The pain overtook everything else.

Shiro cried out, a sob that sounded garbled to his own ears.  His fingers dug into the ground, which gave under his hand.  It was only dust and rocks, nothing solid.

Where was- Huh.

There was a sky overhead.

Last Shiro had checked, he’d been in a building.

Shiro stared up at that incongruity, uncomprehending, and felt like he was floating away into the sky.  But that wasn’t okay.  He wasn’t allowed to do that.  He could only fly away if there were others with him, not alone.

Where were the others?

Rolling his head, Shiro groaned again, the pain throbbing through him.  It ran through him like fire, singing his veins and making him aware of every inch of his floating, distant body.

_ “...iro?” _

Hm?

_ “...iro.  Are you-?” _

There was something.  Maybe words?  But his ears were still full of that ringing, and everything else was low and rumbling, like listening to someone’s heartbeat through their chest.  Actually, he could hear one,  _ th-thump, th-thump, _ in time with the aches in his body.

That was his own.

It was going very fast.

Odd.  Shiro didn’t feel scared or nervous or excited.  He was just here, floating along, a few inches off the ground.

Hadn’t he been doing something?  He felt like he’d been doing something important.  And he’d been with someone important, someone he’d wanted very much to impress.  But that was everyone.  Shiro wanted to impress his team, so they could trust him.  He wanted to impress the Alteans, so he’d think he was a good leader.  He wanted to impress the Galra, so they’d be scared of him and leave him alone.

Shiro didn’t feel very impressive right now.

Still, he turned his head, trying to find whoever it was he’d been working with.

Looking around, Shiro saw a lot of white dust, the same color as the jagged remains of the wall and ceiling.  Some of it was blackened and twisted, and one of those was over Shiro’s foot.

Mmm.  That probably wasn’t good.  But Shiro still felt floaty and achey, not very painful, and the sky was blue and cloudless, so it couldn’t be that bad.

Then he kept looking.

And he saw a splatter of color among the monochrome room.  There was a small pool of orangey-red under one of the other bits of wall.

Shiro couldn’t see under it, but from the tang in the air, that was blood.  

Oh.  That definitely wasn’t good.

_ “Shiro, please!  Answer us!” _

...Keith?

Bit by bit, the ringing started to fade, but it left another ache behind.  Under it, Shiro could hear voices coming from his helmet.  The display had a crack, and it occasionally glitched and faded, but the comms were alright.  The only broken thing was Shiro.

...Heh.

Even more distant than the voices, Shiro could hear something powerful and low, like a slower, angrier heartbeat.  It rumbled through him, making his bones feel like they were shaking, and each time Shiro had to grit his teeth.

One very distant part of his brain recognized it as bombs.

The city was being bombed.

_ “Shiro!” _

Oh, right.

“Keith,” Shiro replied, then groaned.  Talking hurt.  It scraped at his lungs, which felt too dry and full.  He coughed hard, which made his whole body jerk.  Pain raced through Shiro again, drowning out everything, and he heard a sob catch in his throat.

_ “Shiro!” _  That wasn’t Keith.  It was Hunk, and he sounded very scared.  That wasn’t good.  Shiro was supposed to be impressive so Hunk didn’t feel scared.  Or at least, he was less scared.   _ “What’s wrong?  Where are you?” _

That was a lot of questions to keep track of.  Shiro squinted at the sky.  “Dunno.  Used to be inside.”  He started to cough again, and his phelem came out gritty.  Ew.  He’d breathed in the wall dust.  

There was a pause.   _ “You moved outside?”  _ Pidge asked.   _ “I thought you went to speak with their Councillor.” _

“I did,” Shiro replied.  He turned and blinked at the orange blood again.  “We- we talked.  Then the outside came to us.”

Another pause, this one longer.   _ “Shiro, buddy,” _ Lance said.   _ “What does that mean?” _

“There’s no more ceiling.”  Shiro paused, then squinted at the sky. “I can see the castle.  Hi, ‘Llura.  Coran.”

_ “Hello, Shiro,” _  Allura replied, though her voice sounded very tight.  Was she upset?  Shiro was supposed to be impressive, and he was failing that.  Maybe she didn’t like that for a Black Paladin.  That made sense.  

_ “You’re still with the Councillor, then?  Is she with you?”  _ Pidge asked.

Shiro frowned.  He grabbed at the ground again, feeling much less floaty.  That meant he hurt more.  Shiro wanted to go back to not feeling again.  Now, the other hurts were starting to feel small next to how his foot hurt.  “Yeah.  I can’t see her.  I see her blood.”

There was a long silence.

Oh, Shiro probably shouldn’t have said that.

“Um,” he said.  “I mean-”

_ “I’m coming your way,” _ Keith interrupted.   _ “Hold tight.” _

There was a huff.   _ “Fine, let me- Keith, I can’t cover you if you don’t wait for me to aim!” _

“Get faster,” Keith snapped back, dark and tense.  “Listen to him, do you think he has time to waste?”

The resulting silence was guilty.  Shiro closed his eyes, wincing.  “Lance, you’re doing great.”

That earned him a rough sounding laugh.   _ “You can’t see me, Shiro, you don’t know how I’m doing.” _  There were several cracks in a row- gunfire.

“I don’t need to.  C’n hear you.  You’re doing good.”

His answer was a deep breath, one that sounded wet.  Huh.  Was Lance hurt too?

_ “Why don’t you rest up,” _ Hunk offered.   _ “I think Allura and Coran are on their way, right?” _

_ “That we are,” _ Coran agreed, very boisterous indeed.  That tone was nice.  Everyone else sounded so tense that Shiro wanted to get up and help, but he didn’t think he could.  But Coran made it sound like there was nothing at all the matter, so that Shiro could rest up.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro started to speak, but the grit in his lungs was too much, and he went into another coughing fit.  He tried to curl on his side, because coughing flat out hurt even more, but the pain raced through him, and his pinned foot kept him locked into places.

When he was finally done and taking ragged breaths, Pidge spoke up.   _ “You never answered how you are, Shiro.  Can you tell us?” _

Pidge didn’t just sound far away still - now she sounded small, too, as if she’d shrunk.  “Stop that,” Shiro murmured, annoyed.  “Won’t be able to find you.”  Keeping track of Pidge was already difficult in a crowd, he didn’t need her to get even shorter.

_ “Um.” _  Hunk paused, uncomfortable.   _ “Find her where?” _

What kind of question was that?  “Everywhere.”

_ “I don’t think either of you are going to get a real answer out of him,”  _ Lance pointed out.

Well, that wasn’t fair at all.  “M’answerin’.  Talking now.  Hurts, though.”

There was a grunt, and the sound of metal on metal.   _ “I’ll be there in a few minutes, Shiro, and then Allura and Coran will be there right after.  I’m sorry, but you have to keep talking so you stay awake.” _

Shiro hadn’t planned on stopping, but fine.  “See you soon,” he replied, the automatic, polite response.

_ “Shiro,” _ Pidge repeated, louder this time.   _ “Where are you hurt?” _

“Everywhere,” Shiro replied, blinking. “I got blown up.”

_ “Well, we did ask,” _ Hunk muttered.  

Bored with the conversation, and too pained to force himself to focus, Shiro stared back up at the sky and took several deep breaths.  He was actually starting to feel tired.  Wasn’t resting when you were hurt a good thing?  No, not in the field.  He should stay up.  It was better if he was awake, because if something went wrong, Shiro could help.

But Shiro was so tired.

There were murmurs in the background, discussion that went in one ear and out the other, until his attention was pulled again.   _ “Shiro,” _ Allura called, very serious and important.   _ “I have a job for you.” _

Oh!  It was a good thing he’d stayed awake.  “Yes, Princess,” Shiro replied, trying to straighten his back.  It was hard when he was laying down, and the attempt made every bone in his body protest.  

_ “Where is the Castle in the sky?  Like one of your clocks.” _

Shiro scanned the bright blue sky, until he saw the reflective spot that was the Castle.  “Six o’clock.  Not very far down.  Just a couple inches from the center.”  He smiled.  “You’re pretty close now.”

_ “Are you not reading his biometrics?” _ Hunk asked.  

_ “We are,”  _ Allura replied.   _ “Thank you, Shiro.  Keep us updated, okay?” _

Something about the tone was of.  It wasn’t like she normally spoke to him, but a little more like she talked to the mice.  It was hard to tell why - Shiro didn’t think he was like the mice, but maybe Allura knew something he didn’t.  So he just nodded.  “Okay.  I can do that.”  It felt nice, to have something to focus on.  A job.  Better than floating away.

_ “Well done,”  _ Allura replied, and Shiro beamed back at the dot that was the castle.  Maybe he wasn’t in trouble after all, and they’d let him stay the Black Paladin.

There was the sound of crunching nearby.  Shiro started to turn to it, then he remembered his job and went back to staring at the sky.  The caste was getting bigger now, so much that Shiro could see the shape of it.

“Shiro?” 

This time, Shiro did look over.  “Keith?  M’here.”

There were several more footsteps, and then Keith stepped over the side of the ruined wall.  Immediately, his eyes snapped to Shiro, and for a moment, he looked relieved.  But then his eyes went very wide.

Oh.  He’d probably noticed the foot.  It was a little alarming looking, being under part of the wall.  It still hurt a lot, but at least he couldn’t see orange under it.  Or red.

“Hey,” Keith greeted, kneeling down next to Shiro.  “How are you feeling?”

“Um.”  Shiro looked back up at the sky.  “One second.  Eight o’clock now, Princess.”

Whatever reply Allura gave, Shiro didn’t hear it.  Instead, Keith’s hand came down on his forehead, making him start.  The sudden jerk made the pain worse again, which made him cough, and Shiro wasn’t aware of much during that time.

When he could focus again, Keith was right in his face, eyes wide and bright.  “I’m so sorry.  Shiro, they’re landing now, they’ll be here soon, okay?”

“Tell them to take they’re time.  M’doing fine.  They should wait till I can’t feel my foot at all anymore, that’d be nice.”

The reflection in Keith’s eye got brighter, wetter.  “No one’s waiting till we have to amputate, you jerk.”

Shiro scoffed.  “Did it once.  Can’t be worse.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith let out a scoff that sounded way too choked.  “Shut up, you drama queen.”

“You okay?”  That choking sounded bad.  Maybe Keith had dust in his chest too.

Before Keith could reply, there was another set of crunching noises.

“Allura, Coran, is that you?” Keith asked.

_ “No, we’re just getting off the castle now, it’ll be another minute,” _ Allura replied.

_ “None of us, either.” _  Hunk paused, interrupted by the sound of his multi-shot.  _ “We’ll be there in a bit too, there was another wave of them.” _

Keith took a deep breath and nodded.  “Alright.”  He leaned down, then pressed a kiss to Shiro’s temple.  “Stay still, okay?  I’ve got you.”

Blinking at him, Shiro tried to reach up to touch the spot, but the pain kept him still.  “What- no.  One second, I can he-”

But Keith put a hand on Shiro’s chest.  There was no pressure, but his expression was very firm.  “Let us- let me take care of this.  Please.”

Without waiting for an answer, Keith stood.  His bayard formed him his hand, and Shiro wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Keith look more dangerous and angry.

He stepped out of the remains of the room.  Then there was a snarl, barely human, and the sound of combat.

Keith shouldn’t be out there alone.  Shiro needed to-

But the kiss, and the hand on his chest, and Shiro was so tired.

He tried to push himself up on his elbows, to at least try and see.  But something in him  _ shifted _ and Shiro had just a moment to think  _ bad idea. _

Then the world was pain and heat.

And Shiro was gone.


	6. Leo

Shiro’s world was bright.

Even behind his eyelids, the lights above were enough to hurt.  Shiro turned his head, trying to avoid them, and sighed when he found a pillow to block them with.  Perfect.

He was no longer lying on gravel and hard ground.  Now, there was something soft and firm below him.  It was warm too, though the sun before had been warm.  Was that the sun over him?  Might be.  It felt like it, just from how bright it was.

Curious, Shiro cracked his eyes open.

Mmm.  No.  That wasn’t the sun.  That was the light in the med bay.  Whoops.

“Shouldn’t he be in a pod?” Pidge sounded worried, and small still.  Was she still shrinking?  She was supposed to stop that.

There was a sigh.  When Shiro looked over, he could see Coran’s head shake.  “I’m afraid not.  He breathed in quite a lot of debris, and I want to flush his system first.  I’m not sure how the human body will take healing around foreign objects.”

Those were gross words.  Shiro crinkled his nose, then sneezed.  Whoops.

“Shiro?”  That was- just about everyone.  And they were all looking at him.

He raised a hand and waved.  It didn’t hurt anymore.  If anything, Shiro felt good.  Really good.  Even his leg felt fine, though he couldn’t see it.  It was covered under a blanket, and looked bulkier than normal.  Bandages, maybe?  Why?  He felt fine.

Shiro managed a smile and curled his other hand around the edge of his blanket.  “Hi.”

“Should he be up?”  Hunk asked, even as he made his way to Shiro’s side.  “Should he be moving?”

“From the amount of painkillers Coran gave him, I’m very surprised he’s conscious,” Allura replied, bone dry.

Shiro snorted at them both.  “M’fine.  I feel good.”  He considered, then his gaze locked onto Hunk.  “Hey, c’mere.”

At first, Hunk gave him a wild look, glancing at Coran.  The only response he got was a shrug, so Hunk stepped forward.  “Hi there.  You need something?”

“Yeah.”  With that, Shiro sat up, grunting from the effort it took.  He was heavy.  Was he always this heavy?  When he was finally up, he put his hand on Hunk’s shoulder.

Shiro used that to drag him down and kiss his cheek.

Beaming, he let Hunk go.  “Like you did, remember?  It was nice.  You look worried.  Did it help?”

Hunk’s eyes went wide.  He reached up and rested his fingers over the spot he’d been kissed, just like Shiro had that afternoon.  “Um.  Honestly, not really.  You feeling okay?”

“I feel very good,” Shiro told him, voice low.  “I think Coran gave me the good stuff.”

“I did,” Coran agreed, nodding firmly.  “You are about to be coughing up a lot of dust, I’m afraid.  You’ll need the ‘good stuff’ for that.”

Shiro stared at him, his expression slowly falling.  “That sounds bad.  Can we not do that?”

A raised eyebrow was his only response.

Stepping around Hunk, Lance got right up in Shiro’s space.  “You gave us a scare there, bossman.  We were thinking you might need to be 50 percent robot instead of 25 percent.”

“His arm isn’t 25 percent of his body,” Pidge pointed out.  “It’s not even his full arm.”

Lance’s brows drew together, and he shot Pidge a flat look.

But before he could respond, Shiro kissed one of his cheeks, then the other, each time accompanied by a ‘mwah.’

“Hello,” Shiro greeted, beaming at him.  “Did I do that right?”

At first, Lance gaped at him.  Then he beamed back, eyes a little misty.  “Yeah, you did it right.  You’re supposed to do that to girls, you know.”

“You did it to me,” Shiro pointed out, nearly sulky.  He tried to cross his arms, but it made him feel not as good, so he stopped.

Lance inclined his head.  “Yeah, well, I was joking.  Here, practice on Allura.”  He ducked back, and gestured for the Princess to move into the space instead.

Scoffing, Allura turned her head away from Lance, ignoring the suggestion outright.  “How are you feeling now?  Does anywhere still hurt?”

Shiro stared at Allura, then craned his neck around to look at Lance.  “I can’t kiss the  _ Princess, _ like that,” he admitted, voice a scandalized whisper.

Brows up, Allura eyed him, amused.  “And why is that?”

“You’re a  _ Princess!” _

“This is a familiar conversation,” she replied.  “You still have not answered the question, you realize.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed, trying to remember the question.  But it had been asked a long time ago, so he gave up on that.  “Oh yeah.  We did talk about this.”

“You talked about kissing with Allura?” Keith asked, bone dry.  “How’d that come up?”

“Like this.”  Shiro caught Allura’s hand, then kissed the knuckles.  “Except  _ she _ did that to  _ me. _  Tell her that’s wrong.”

Lance snorted, though it was still a little strained.  “Are you going to make her an offer she can’t refuse?”

“As a Princess, I believe I am allowed to kiss whoever I please, however I please, provided they agree to it first.”

Blinking up at her, Shiro tilted his head.  “I guess,” he allowed.  “But- it’s wrong.” His voice fell into an outright whine.  “You’re a  _ Princess. _  I’m supposed to, you know, bow and kneel.  All that.”

“It’s a rank thing, Princess,” Pidge replied.  “Honestly, don’t worry about it.”

Shiro huffed.  “It’s important,” he told them.  “Gotta be respectful.  I respect her.”

Shaking her head, Allura stepped back.  “I know you respect me, Shiro, you don’t need to worry.”

Continuing to pout, Shiro finally nodded.  Then he eyed Pidge. “Did you stop shrinking?”

“Did I what now?”

Shiro gestured for her to come closer.  “Lemme check.”

With a last odd look at the rest of the group, Pidge stepped forward.  Shiro put a hand on either side of her jaw and inspected her closely.  “You sounded smaller.  I was making sure.  You’re not allowed to shrink.  It’s hard enough to keep track of you now.”  

Blinking hard, Pidge didn’t look like she understood what he was saying at all.  But she finally nodded.  “Alright, I promise I’ll do my best to avoid that in the future.”

“Shrinkage is terrible,” Lance muttered, only to be elbowed by Hunk.  Hard.

Shiro blinked at him, head tilted.  Slowly, Lance went pink and looked away, losing a contest of wills that Shiro hadn’t even been aware they were having.

Huh.

That taken care of, Shiro pressed a kiss to Pidge’s forehead.  “Good.  Thank you for staying big.”

Pidge met his eyes again.  Hers were wet and shiny.  “You have to stay safe, okay?  We can’t lose you.  Someone else around here needs to make fun of Matt with me.”

Expression softening, Shiro pressed their foreheads together, a quiet, gentle bunt.  “I’ll try,” he offered.  “If only for mocking Matt.”

“Good enough.”  Pidge pulled back with a deep breath, like she was centering herself. 

Now that he was alone in his personal bubble, Shiro could see the room again.  And he could see that Keith was hovering on the outside of the group, watching with his arms crossed.

That wouldn’t do at all.

“Keith,” Shiro called, holding his arms out for him.  “C’mere.”

Each step over looked like it weighed a hundred pounds.  Then, finally, Keith was at his side.  “Need me to get you something?”

“Need you to get down here.”  Shiro drew him down into a hug, tight and firm.  A little too tight, actually, because it made his chest feel echo-y and too small.  But that didn’t matter.  Hugging Keith mattered.  “Thank you.  You protected me.  Tried to help, but I couldn’t.”

Keith scoffed, but he leaned into the embrace.  “Your leg was trapped under rocks.  I think you were allowed to sit that one out.”

“Still.”  Shiro pulled back and pushed Keith’s bangs out of his face, fussing openly.  “You still saved me.  So thank you.”  He paused.  “Your bangs are dirty.”

“Yeah, well, someone got himself blown up and covered in dust, and I haven’t had time to shower.”

Shiro frowned at him.  “Go wash up.  You’re gross.”  Despite that, he pressed a kiss to his temple, just as he remembered Keith doing for him.  “Thank you anyway, but shower time.”

“Actually, now would be a good time for all of you to wash up,” Coran announced.  “I’m about to give Shiro something that will encourage him to clean out his airways.”

“Should we stay for that?” Keith asked, his fingers grabbing at Shiro’s shirt for just a moment.

Coran paused, then shook his head.  “There’s no need for it, and I believe the process will be smoother without so many people crowding the room.”

“He means we stress Shiro out and we should go away,” Lance translated, his cheer a little too bright.  “Roger that.”

Shiro stared at him, then clung right back to Keith.  “They don’t stress me.  I love you guys.”

Raising his gaze blandly, Coran sighed at Lance, who blushed.  “No one is saying you don’t love them,” Coran soothed.  “Considering you just kissed them all, that wasn’t in question.”

He hadn’t-

Oh, Shiro had.  Huh.  Funny world.

“Do you want them to see you hurting?” Coran asked, leaning against the foot of the cot.

Shiro considered.  “No,” he decided.

“Would you enjoy people watching you cough and be in pain?”

This time, Shiro’s shoulders slumped.  “I’d rather not.”

Reaching out, Coran patted Shiro on top of the head.  “Then let them go, and they can see you after.  The process will go more smoothly without an audience, I’m sure.”

That made enough sense that Shiro let go of Keith.  “Alright,” he muttered.  “Bye.”

“We’ll see you soon, Shiro,” Allura said, offering him a smile. 

Hunk nodded.  “We’ll say goodbye before you get in the pod.”  Then he glanced at Coran.  “We will, right?”

“I’ll send you a message before he goes in, yes.”

“Feel better,” Pidge offered, smiling.  Behind her, Lance blew another kiss, then gave an apologetic smile, probably for getting Shiro defensive just moments ago.

Keith took a long time to pull away, and he gave Shiro a last squeeze on the shoulder.  “Get better.”

“I will,” Shiro said.  “I don’t have a choice.”

That earned him a snort, and then Coran shooed them all out of the room.

Once they were all gone, Coran held up something that looked like a snorkeler's mask.  “This will not be pleasant, I’m afraid.  Just cough as you need to, don’t worry about anything in the way.”

Shiro eyed the device unhappily, but nodded.  “Alright.”  He took a deep breath, then leaned forward further so Coran could settle the strap around his head.  “Thank you.”  It came out echoey, each breath rough and nearly digital, like Darth Vader.

Reaching out, Coran brushed Shiro’s bangs out of his face.  “Don’t thank me yet.”

Then, there was air forcing into Shiro’s mouth.  He breathed in automatically, and his lungs felt full to busting.  Then it all ripped out of him at once, bringing grit and dust up with it.  

Shiro hacked into the device, blind from discomfort and pain.  His fingers dug into the sheets as he tried to curl in on himself.  But arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him back against something solid.

The process repeated.  The only thing keeping Shiro from screaming was that he never had air long enough.

It took several more cycles before it finally ended.  Shiro felt empty and loose, like a balloon blown up and then released until it was distorted out of shape.

Coran took the mask off, then pressed something about Shiro’s chest. “Just one more deep breath for me, Number One.  You’re almost done.”

By that point, Shiro could only obey, far too tired and sore to resist.  He breathed deeply, and found the process far easier and more comfortable than before.

“You did very well,” Coran told him.  “Well done.”  

Shiro closed his eyes and hummed, relaxing.  “Thank you,” he murmured, leaning back against the solid warmth behind him.

Then he felt something warm and prickly against the top of his head.

A kiss. Coran had kissed the top of his head.

Shiro blinked his eyes open.  “I was returning those,” he mumbled, barely aware of the words as they escaped.

“You don’t need to return this one,” Coran replied, very gentle.  “You can keep it just for you.  You earned it.”

Oh.  That was nice.

Smiling, Shiro let himself be laid back down.  The medication was still keeping the pain away, but now he felt like he was heavy, too.

Shiro was distantly aware of the blankets being drawn up, and Coran’s voice speaking softly into the comms.  There were replies, but they were indistinct, too far away to listen to.

Instead, Shiro drifted off, with the memories of the kisses he’d collected to keep him company.


End file.
